


Dressing Up

by wildwordwomyn



Category: Kane (Band)
Genre: Angst, Explicit Language, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-25
Updated: 2011-04-25
Packaged: 2017-10-18 15:36:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/190387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildwordwomyn/pseuds/wildwordwomyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You've been doing this for a long time...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dressing Up

**Author's Note:**

> LOTS of cursing (I cannot stress this enough, people) and man-on-man kissing and very brief het. Also told from Chris's POV.

You've been doing this for a long time. The friend thing. The band thing. The soul-mate thing. But this? _This_ is a date. Like an actual _date_. And it never even occurred to you until now. Because Steve is all dressed up in a black jacket and one of his nicest white button-downs and for once he's wearing black pants. Granted, they're jeans. But they're _pressed_ , which is big. Really big. Which just proves the point that this is a date. Only you didn't know. You'd dressed up yourself because you thought you should look nice for once... _Fuck_ , you're on a date with Steve _fucking_ Carlson, your best friend and band-mate and brother and father and son and...Fuck!

 

When the bartender asks to take a picture of you Steve shrugs and smiles at you in this way that says he'd rather not and it hits you then. If Steve could've _he_ would've taken you somewhere else, that it would've been just the two of you. If he could've you'd probably be wearing less clothes by now and there'd be a _lot_ of kissing just because you _happen_ to know he likes foreplay. Not that you _should_. But you've seen him make out with women before and he seems pretty keen on it. The kissing gets him  going like nothing else. Of course, that's probably _not_ something you should be thinking of while getting your picture taken with him so close to you, but you can't help it. Going off of how into it the women seemed Steve has _skills_ and, _Christ_ , you're on a _fucking date_ with the _god_ of kissing and just because it's not official does not make it any less capital H, capital O, capital fucking _T_. Steve looks sexy as hell like this with the dim lighting and the soft music and the wine flowing freely. Hell, you're not even a wine drinker and _you're_ getting all romantic and shit.

 

The bartender clicks a button, memorializing the two most well-known members of Kane on his cell phone. You run a hand through your hair nervously while Steve shifts back into his seat. He's _looking_ at you with a bright, tender gaze and his eyes have darkened noticeably. You can't tell if he's just feeling the _wine_ or if it's something else, but that doesn't really matter. You're thinking about the last woman he'd been with, what? A year ago? A _year_ ago...She'd melted in his arms. Literally. He'd kissed her, seriously kissed her up against the hotel door while you'd swigged from your bottle of Jack and watched and she'd _sighed_ into his mouth and started sinking immediately. He had a strong grip on her hips like he knew what would happen, hanging on so she wouldn't fall. You remember how, when he pulled back to run the key through the slot, her face was slack but her eyes were  hungry as all hell. As soon as she heard that _snick_ she was pushing him back into the room, begging him to kiss her again...

 

You are an avowed heterosexual. You _love_ women. The way they smell, the way they sound, the way they taste. You'd devour them if you knew how. And here _you_ are, on a goddamn date with _another man_. To make things even worse his eyes have landed on your mouth and you're leaning forward like you're hypnotized. It takes all your willpower to stop yourself from kissing him first with him staring at your lips like he wants to suck them as if they're some succulent fruit. And Jesus, when'd your pants grow so tight at the crotch?

 

"Chris?" he calls. His voice is just this side of hoarse. It's how he sounds when he's horny, and, yeah, you know _way_ too much about the man, but it's a kick to the gut 'cause it's suddenly the most _erotic_ thing you've ever heard.

 

You clear your throat. "What?" The frog is still there stuck in your larynx so it's a good thing you don't say anything else.

 

"...I've been thinking about kissing you all night..."

 

That's all. He doesn't elaborate, the bastard. He doesn't need to, though. You're guessing there's _tons_ more he'd like to do to you. You're curious enough to wonder and have absolutely _no problem_ following when he stands and nods his head toward the door of the restaurant. You're not even sure you have much of a _choice_ when it comes to the man. A fucking date. With fucking _Steve_. Fuck...When he takes your hand at the hotel room door and wraps an arm around your waist you don't back away. You don't tell him to stop. 'Cause you're that woman now, _waiting_ for the kiss that'll knock you on your ass, and you're ready. You're so fucking _ready for it_ you don't even flinch as his face inches closer and closer until you can smell the syrah on his breath and feel the whiskers above his top lip. And the kiss? It's just like you imagined. It's him sliding his tongue into your mouth and stroking your tongue with his so slowly it takes you a full _minute_ to realize that whimpering is coming from _you_ , and when you start to melt he catches you automatically without making you feel like less of a man. He just continues his assault with the ease of a silent strike force and _somehow_ gets the door unlocked and open in the span of a second, and groans,  goddamn _groans_ into your mouth like you're _his_ fucking ambrosia...

 


End file.
